


When the sun comes back

by prudence_dearly



Category: Sungkyunkwan Scandal
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7174067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prudence_dearly/pseuds/prudence_dearly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after leaving Sungkyunkwan, Ha In-Soo is poor, cold and alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the sun comes back

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a long, long time in the writing. Many thanks to china_shop, who read several versions of it and helped push it in the right direction.
> 
> I’m a pakeha (white) woman writing in New Zealand, with no experience of Korean culture or history beyond TV and internet research. Please forgive my ignorance.

The nights out here were too long. Back in the city the day started regardless of the sun. People were on the streets, buying and selling, walking and shouting, and the servants were moving about the house, warming the rooms and getting breakfast ready. His house boy would have hot porridge ready for him; would have warmed his shoes. And all before the lazy sun finally made its way above the rooftops.

Out here, night lasted until the sun came up. Perhaps there was some wretched farmer somewhere fetching eggs or whatever farmers did before dawn, but here in the house, it was quiet. The housemaid had banked the fires, the breakfast was lukewarm, his shoes were there, but cold. And there was no life. Just the endless quiet darkness, stretching on till spring and maybe further.

Ha In-Soo watched the black horizon until it began to piece itself together into shades of grey. A curve here, a shadow there, and the winter landscape gradually emerged, grey and white and black, against a heavy sky. The very picture of tedium.

There was a crash, somewhere indoors, and a screech of frustration. Hyo-Eun was awake and making trouble. Every morning was a struggle, getting her washed, fed, into her clothes and then entertained. One maid was barely enough to keep the girl in check. In-Soo followed what had become his habit at this time of day, and went for a walk.

His winter cloak was warm, but years old. At least in the countryside there was nobody to see.

There was still snow under the trees, and no birdsong to break the silence. He did not take a lantern with him. He knew the hillsides with his eyes closed; he had played here every year as a child. Besides, they could not afford the use of a lantern every morning.

The last thought was a bitter one, and In-Soo doubled his pace, venting his frustration with the climb. There was a shrine on the hilltop, a place for prayer and contemplation. When he got there, he would look out towards the city, invisible in the distance, and think about home.

His ears were so full of the rasp of his own breath, the crunching of needles and twigs under his feet, that he heard no warning - the person was there in front of him as if from nowhere. A slim, dark figure standing in the middle of the path. He stopped abruptly, panting. The forest around them creaked.

“Ha In-Soo.”

He knew her the moment she spoke.

“Don’t kill me.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think, and even behind her mask he could see Cho-Sun’s eyes narrow.

“Why would I kill you, Ha In-Soo, when you are the only person left who can help me?” She walked slowly towards him. “It is time to pay your father’s debt to me.”  

In-Soo let out a scornful laugh. “We don’t have any money,” he said sourly, and it was almost a relief to say it out loud. As Cho-Sun stepped carefully around him, he raised his voice, letting the words hang in the air, “I can’t pay you anything. The summer residence is all we have left, and the moneylenders have their eyes on that. My sister cannot marry; our servants have left us.”

“That’s not true,” Cho-Sun cut in. In-Soo’s hands balled themselves into fists at the interruption as she continued to circle him. “Your sister’s maid is still attending her. And your butler and his wife keep the house for you.”

“We used to have twenty servants in this house,” In-Soo said, keeping his tone level.

“I remember.”

He waited. Perhaps she would kill him, after all. Now that she knew they had no money to pay her. He had no weapons, no way of defending himself.

“I do not want payment in money,” Cho-Sun said softly, by his shoulder. “Your father promised me information. He promised it to me many times, over the years, and yet never gave it to me, no matter what I did for him.” In-Soo looked at his feet, gritting his teeth. Cho-Sun put two fingers under his chin and lifted his face to look at hers. She had lowered her mask and her perfect, pale skin and shining eyes were just as beautiful as they had always been. “Now you must give me what he would not,” she said.

*

She served him tea and for a moment everything was like it had been. He could ignore the bandit clothing, the lack of makeup, her hair in a simple plait with no pins or jewels. He had loved her clothes, how they made her slow and stately, how she had, at one time, chosen colours she knew he liked. But without them she was no less delicate, no less fascinating.

Cho-Sun performed the ritual and sat back, not meeting his eyes. He felt the old compulsion, the urge to reach out and catch her in his hands, the same knowledge that she would slip away from him if he tried. It was as addictive as wine, this feeling. As futile, too.

“Where have you been?” he asked, sipping the tea. “And what have you been doing?” he persisted. “How have you stayed alive? How have you earnt money?”

“I see your change in circumstances has done nothing to improve your character,” she said. She did not bother to look at him, to see if her reply hit its mark. “It is a shame. If you were any other man, the trials you have gone through would have softened your heart and made you kinder. But I see you have simply become more like your father.”

It was a wonder the tea cup did not shatter in In-Soo’s hand. Anger boiled up inside him, and he could do nothing to hide it. Why bother, when Cho-Sun could read his every expression. She had always known how to enrage him.

In-Soo regained enough control to put his teacup down. “You said you want my help,” he said, as evenly as he could. “Yet you speak to me like this.”

Finally, she met his eyes, and she could not have looked more pityingly at the dirtiest beggar in Banchon. “Still you confuse consequences with insolence. I am not your gisaeng any more. I am not your father’s puppet. Do not fall into old habits, In-Soo.” She allowed him to simmer in silence for a few minutes, before speaking again.

The room was chilly. They had not used it since they moved here from the city - there had not been any guests to entertain. The fire was low, and In-Soo did not want to call for the servant to bring more wood. Perhaps if he let it die, Cho-Sun would grow cold and leave. The thought brought a half smile to his lips. What little power he wielded, now.

“Do you remember the day I came to your family’s house, Ha In-Soo?”

“I remember it.”

“Did you know what it meant?”

“At the time, no. My father told me, later.”

“What did he tell you?” Cho-Sun watched him carefully from under her eyelashes. She had laid her sword on the floor behind her, but there was still a dagger in her belt. He wondered if she used to carry weapons under her giseang clothing.

“Your parents were dead and he took you in.”

Cho-Sun tilted her head a little, and In-Soo relented. “He said your father owed him money, too. You were a repayment.”

“That much is true.” She laid her hands in her lap. “My father owed your father some money. But my parents were not dead. I was sold to your father to pay the debt. When I was able to escape this house, I ran back to where my family had lived, but they were gone. I have never been able to find them. Minister Ha promised me that if I served him faithfully, he would tell me where they were.”

In-Soo frowned, trying to remember those early days. He had admired Cho-Sun from a distance. She was pretty, graceful and strong. She had played with the servants’ children and run after the house cats. But he did not remember her being locked in. He did not remember what else his father had said about her. It hadn’t mattered. She belonged to them.

“My father is dead,” he said. “He never told me anything about your family. Whatever knowledge you seek, it is gone now.”

“It is very lucky for me, then,” said Cho-Sun, “that Ha In-Soo is not a man who gives up easily. Particularly where the honour of his family is concerned.”

*

It had been his father’s study, a room full of books, fine paintings, rich tapestries, where Minister Ha worked long into the night or entertained his visiting friends. In-Soo had not set foot inside it in months. Maybe over a year. As he slid the doors open, the smell of dust and old ink stirred up the memories.

It was three years since his father died. Four years since they packed up the house and moved out to their one remaining property. Five years - no, a little more - since he graduated from Sungkyunkwan, his exam overseen by the King himself with a great flurry of words about forgiving sons for the actions of their fathers. He had barely been able to see the pages in front of him, he was so maddened by their pity. The King, the professors, the other students who wouldn’t even come near him. Except for Mun Jae-Shin, who had tilted his chin at him as they entered the examination hall and said, “Good luck.”

That alone would have thrown him into a storm of fury, even without the King’s speech about forgiveness, without the other students’ stares, without seeing Gu Yong-Ha and his damned friends slapping each other’s backs and congratulating themselves afterwards.

Ha In-Soo had stalked away without speaking to anyone, without waiting for the results. He had passed, he was told later. For all the good it did him, he might as well not have shown up.

In-Soo opened his eyes and stepped into the study.

“Everything of my father’s is here,” he said, carrying the candle to the desk. It was not true, of course. When his father was arrested the King’s soldiers had ransacked the house and taken away great cartloads of papers. They searched the warehouses, the Minister’s private rooms in the palace; soldiers rode out to the winter house and the summer house and turned them upside down as well. Even In-Soo’s rooms at the university were searched, and his possessions seized. What wasn’t kept as evidence by the king was sold to pay their debts, and what had no value was here.

He took a little pleasure in Cho-Sun’s expression of dismay.

“I believe,” he said, adding salt to the wound “that my sister has been tidying up.”

*

It rained so heavily one afternoon that the fire in the grate hissed and gave out.  Cho-Sun sat back on her heels, wrapping her cloak around her and letting out a slow breath which hung as mist in the air.

He had given up hoping that the cold would drive her away. She slept in the guest rooms without a fire, she ate their pitiful, plain food, she kept her cloak on while working, and never flinched at any of it. He almost wished it colder, dirtier, poorer, just to get a reaction from her.

They had spent three days in the study, her reading diligently, him sitting and watching, taking a bitter pleasure in the slow passage of hours. He knew she had gone through the rest of the house, too. There was no point trying to stop her, and indeed there was nothing to hide. Nothing that had not already passed through the paws of a dozen soldiers and lawyers. He would have stood aside and let her ransack the place, too, but she was too discrete. She hunted in secret, at night, and left nothing disturbed. After her search, his father’s study was in better repair than it had been in years. For what good it did him.

He stood up, dusting down his robes.

“You have looked everywhere, now,” he said. “You know there is nothing here. You should leave.”

“I have not finished looking yet,” she said quietly, getting to her feet.

“There is nothing to find! Why do you believe my father even knew where your family went?” In-Soo demanded. “They handed you over and left.”

“Your father was a terrible man,” Cho-Sun replied softly. “He drove them away. He told me so. He did not want me to escape with them.”

“My father - ” In-Soo stepped towards her, finally warmed by a flush of anger. “My father took you in. He fed you and gave you clothes and even paid for you to train as a giseang. You became famous because of him. You were loved because of him.”

Cho-Sun didn’t flinch as he towered over her; she just stared at him. Her eyes were like pools of ink, deep and dark, and he could drown in them. Her pity was like poison, but those eyes. He had missed her.

“You cannot throw your father away,” she said. “I suppose that is admirable.” She went to the window, opening the shutters to look out at the rain. “It is a shame I couldn’t see your father before he died. Perhaps, in prison, he would finally have given up his lies and told me the truth. Now that he is gone it is up to you, as his son, to do what he did not, and fulfill his promise.”

“I have told you,” said In-Soo through gritted teeth, “I cannot help you. I don’t know what happened, and there’s nobody who can tell us.”

“There is someone else who can help us,” said Cho-Sun. “There are your friends.”

“I have no friends!” he shouted.

*

Hyo-Eun put up a fight, but she had never been a match for her brother, and it was more a matter of principle than real defiance.

“Why should I give up my clothes? I hardly have any now and you’re giving them away to that woman!”

Beo-Deul handed over the clothes wordlessly and went to stand beside her mistress.

“I know it makes you unhappy, but we have no choice. Cho-Sun holds us in the palm of her hand.”

“Oh, what can she do to us?” Hyo-Eun swept a hand out to encompass her room, the house, the poor lands around it. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than this! We have nothing for her to steal from us - nothing but my clothes!”

“Hyo-Eun.” He put a hand to her face. “You are very stupid. Not everything has been taken from us yet, but it can be. Maybe it will be - unless I can outwit Cho-Sun and help us to survive a little longer. Even then, our family is ruined, and we will end up on the street, eventually. Enjoy what you have now.”

He closed her door behind him, feeling only a trace of the old warmth in his chest. Cruel words had always felt so good before.

Heavy clouds hung low over the house, blocking the weak winter sun and promising rain. Night drew in even sooner than usual.

*

The next day, In-Soo walked to the village and hired a horse. It was a bony old mare, a farmer’s horse, not fit for the dogs yet, but not fit for a nobleman either. That was just as well. He was hoping to pass as a nobody, a middle-class merchant or teacher, riding from the village to the city. Another boring man on a boring journey.

He met Cho-Sun outside the city gates. She was wearing his sister’s clothes, the jangot covering her head and face, her shoes muddy from the road. He didn’t bother to ask how she had got there ahead of him, just dismounted and walked with her to the gates.

There were guards, but they were not checking identity cards. They waved people through as they leant on their spears.

It was a market day, and even in the grip of winter, people seemed lively. The clatter of horses’ hooves, the cries of the market traders, the chatter of the crowds - it washed over him and for a moment his heart lifted and he felt at home.

And then it was gone. The farmer’s horse tugged at the bridle in his hand, his shoes rubbed painfully against his heels, his cloak hung heavy on his shoulders and a peasant shoved past him, not knowing who he was, not caring.

He led the way, through the familiar streets and squares. If he went the longer way, avoiding the university gates, Cho-Sun did not remark on it. When a gaggle of young students passed them, blue robes bright in the dull winter daylight, he looked away, hiding his face until they had passed. Was there any chance they would recognise him? Would anyone? Did anyone in the city even think of him any more? He did not know if he wanted to find out.

*

The scribe led them through a maze of corridors, dodging officials carrying great armloads of papers. “There was a leak in the roof of the archives,” the scribe said apologetically over his shoulder, “We have had to move all the records. This way.” He stopped at a half-open door and knocked politely. “Sir? Sir, you have visitors.”

“Who is it?” The familiar voice sounded distracted, annoyed.

Ha In-Soo felt his hands tighten into fists as the scribe answered with the lie he had been told, “Seol Go-Bong and his wife, sir.”

“What? Well, bring them in at once!” The voice drew nearer and the door was flung open to reveal Byung-Choon, at first delighted and then, quickly, confused.

“Hello, my friend,” said In-Soo. “May we speak to you? Inside?”

The scribe was sent scurrying away, and Byung-Choon ushered In-Soo and Cho-Sun to sit beside his writing desk. As the woman lowered her veil, he gasped, recognising her, too.

“Master, why are you here?” Byung-Choon’s face was a picture of concern.

“It has been many years since we saw each other,” said In-Soo carefully. “You look well.”

This threw Byung-Choon into even deeper confusion. He stammered something about a promotion, looked at Cho-Sun again, then back to his former master. “Please, sir, tell me what is happening. I didn’t think you would ever come back to the city. Yet here you are, and with - with - ”

Cho-Sun looked demurely away, and In-Soo gave up trying to be polite.

“Cho-Sun has come to me to find out about her family.”

“Her family?” Byung-Choon repeated stupidly. He had grown a little older, a little fatter, and he had hair on his chin now, but otherwise he was exactly the same. The urge rose up in In-Soo to slap him, to snap at him, to grind him down little by little, the way he used to. The man was such a grovelling snake, a wheedler, a whiner and a useless fool. In-Soo drew in breath.

“Cho-Sun’s family were tenants on my father’s land many years ago. My father’s records have been confiscated. Byung-Choon, perhaps you can help us find out where they went. I must ask you for this favour as a friend… my only remaining friend.”

“Of course,” Byung-Choon stuttered. “Of course, of course I will help you.”

He took down Cho-Sun’s family’s names. A mother, father, sister and brother. The date they had come to live on Minister Ha’s land, and when they had left. Her father’s profession - “A carpenter, although he was once a great soldier” - and all their ages.

“Will you be able to find them?” Cho-Sun asked, her voice light, as if she were asking after Byung-Choon’s health.

He grimaced. “I don’t know. I can look and see if they’re in our records. If they bought property or a horse or suchlike, they might be. And if your brother was married in this district then I might be able to find his registration.” He darted looks at her, still in awe despite her second-hand clothing and bare face. “I will try.” He turned to In-Soo, half reached out his hand, and repeated, “I will try, sir.”

*

Rain was lashing down as Byung-Choon showed them out. The horse, tethered by the entryway, shook itself, its coat and saddle drenched. In-Soo looked at it darkly.

“Where will you stay tonight?” asked Byung-Choon, sheltering in the doorway out of the rain. Cho-Sun raised her jangot against the wind.

“I must return home,” said In-Soo abruptly. He went to step out, but Byung-Choon’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“You would do me a great honour, sir, if you would stay the night at my house.” He darted a nervous look at Cho-Sun. “There is room for two guests. You would be very comfortable. It would be a small repayment for the kindness you showed me when we were students together.”

In-Soo opened his mouth to refuse, even as Cho-Sun said, “Thank you, Byung-Choon, you are most kind. It would be impossible to travel in this weather. We will accept your offer.” She smiled at Byung-Choon, and turned her mild eyes on In-Soo, daring him to argue.

Byung-Choon’s house wasn’t far away, but they were wet by the time they arrived. It was a fair-sized place with its own enclosed courtyard and gatekeeper. The horse was taken away to be stabled, and Byung-Choon ushered them into his parlour, where a fire was roaring. Servants hurried to bring them tea. Cho-Sun removed her cloak, but kept her face demurely turned away until the servants had left. Byung-Choon excused himself effusively and scurried out.

“You should not have spoken for me,” began In-Soo in a half whisper.

Cho-Sun poured the tea and ignored him. The door slid open once again and Byung-Choon entered with three women. One was elderly and walked with a stick; the other two were younger.

“My mother and my sister,” Byung-Choon introduced them, “and this is my wife.” His mother grasped In-Soo’s hand and pressed it to her lips.

“Thank you, sir,” she was saying, over and over. Her daughter and daughter-in-law jointly grabbed In-Soo’s other hand and did the same, all chiming in with the chorus of thanks. Startled, he tried to pull away, but the women were insistent.

“Ha In-Soo is a great benefactor of our family,” Byung-Choon said to Cho-Sun, by way of explanation. His eyes were brimming with tears. “When my mother was ill, he gave me money to pay for her medicine. She recovered and now she has seen both me and my sister married, and my sister has given her a grandson. Without Ha In-Soo, our family would not know this great happiness.”

In-Soo extricated his hands and made the proper acknowledgements, bowing and trying to regain his composure. Byung-Choon hustled the women out again, then turned back at the door to excuse himself.

“I must return to work for a few hours. We will see each other at dinner. My servant will show you to your rooms and will bring you dry clothes.” He bowed and stepped out, sliding the door shut.

*

Cho-Sun caused a flutter at the dinner table. Even without her gisaeng finery she made an elegant addition to the group. She served as much as was proper, with all the delicacy of a princess. Byung-Choon and his family were loud and enthusiastic in their welcome for their two guests. There had clearly been some words spoken before the meal, because there were no questions about whether the two were married, or where their servants were, or why they were there at all.

Byung-Choon offered an escape after the meal, taking In-Soo outside to drink wine under the eaves as the rain fell. He poured the wine for his senior, then sat in awkward silence, wriggling to speak but not allowing himself.

In-Soo let the moment extend, feeling the power of his host’s anxiety, even looking questioningly into his wine cup once he had tasted it. It was perfectly acceptable, though nothing compared to what his family had once enjoyed. A civil servant’s wine, offered by the epitome of a civil servant himself.

The moment twisted, and In-Soo swallowed the whole cup.

“You have done well, Byung-Choon,” he said, putting the cup down. “You have a good home and a good family. When will you have a son?” The niceties rolled easily off the tongue, and he saw Byung-Choon relax a little, though the man was still slightly tensed, waiting for the hidden jibe.

“Thank you, sir. It is a great pleasure to see you again. You look…” he trailed off.

Thin, thought In-Soo. Poor. Tired. Old.

“These have not been easy years,” he said, the words coming unbidden. Byung-Choon poured him another cup of wine, but he didn’t take it. “I’m glad they have been good to you, though.” Maybe he meant it. He could not quite tell.

*

“It feels strange to you, doesn’t it?” Cho-Sun spoke from the doorway.

In-Soo jerked his head up. He hadn’t heard her come in. The book he had taken from Byung-Choon’s library lay open on the first page. He had been lost in thought, not in the writing, and it took a while to realise what she had said.

“The gratitude of others,” she explained, stepping into the room and kneeling beside him to take the book and look it over. “True gratitude, from one friend to another. Byung-Choon is a man who would do anything for you. And his family does not care about your father or what he did. They only care about what you did.” She got up and went to the shelf, returning with a different book. “Read less military strategy and more love poetry. It will help you learn.”

*

The weather was, if anything, worse the next day. Byung-Choon implored In-Soo to stay for another night. It would take him days, anyway, to search the records - maybe even weeks. Stay for as long as you wish, he told them.

When he left for work, and the women of the house were gathered together with the baby and their needlework, Cho-Sun and In-Soo met in the parlour.

“There is one more place to look,” she said, laying an arm on the windowsill and looking out at the deluge. “Your father had my family removed. He likely sent his soldiers to take them away, to the high road or to the next district. We must find those soldiers and question them.”

“Find them?” repeated In-Soo. “It was twenty years ago!”

“Yes,” said Cho-Sun, turning to him with a smile. “Who do we know who can solve a mystery twenty years old?”

*

He left her at the house, unable to stand her witnessing another humiliation. By the time he found the right place in the mercantile district, he was soaked through.

The shop was warm, and so packed with colourful silks that he could barely step inside.

“Aish!” came a cry from further inside the cocoon. “Careful! Don’t get rainwater on my silks or the cost will be more than you can bear, whoever you are.” Gu Yong-Ha appeared from behind a mountain of orange and purple, his mouth open and eyes sparkling, ready to happily berate another customer. When he saw In-Soo, he pulled up short. “Well,” he said, touching a hand to his throat. “Here is a sight I never thought I would see.”

He looked In-Soo up and down, and evidently was not pleased by what he saw. He tutted, and shook his head. “You look the worse for wear, Ha In-Soo. What have you been getting up to?”

“I need to speak to you,” In-Soo said, holding tight to the ragged ends of his temper. “Privately.”

Yong-Ha looked him over again, then gave an angular shrug, and led him through the shop - “Mind you don’t drip on the silks!” - and up a stairway to an upper room. It was long and low, half of it filled with bales of material, and the rest arranged as a parlour. Yong-Ha brought over a tray and poured some wine, then arranged himself on the floor like a peacock. In-Soo sat cross-legged and prepared himself for a trial.

“I need your help. I have to find out some information, and… and I do not have many friends I can ask.” The words almost choked him.

“You want me to help you?” Yong-Ha’s eyes danced at the thought. “Why would I help you? You tried to destroy me.”

“It didn’t work,” In-Soo said darkly. “Nothing ever worked on you, Yong-Ha. You are like a beetle that can’t be squashed.”

Yong-Ha looked pleased with this. “It’s true,” he murmured. “Still, I can’t believe you would show up after five years and ask for my help.” He leaned in, peering closely at In-Soo. “What do you need?”

“It’s not for me,” he said, unsure of whether this would help or hurt his case. “It is for Cho-Sun. She wants to find her family.”

Yong-Ha leaned back again, with a long, sing-song, “Ahhhhh.” He toyed with the tassel on his housecoat. “The beautiful Cho-Sun has returned. I didn’t think she ever would. And why are you helping her?”

“My father drove her family away. It is my duty to right this wrong.”

Yong-Ha tilted his head, like a bird catching sight of its reflection. He smiled faintly.

“It’s not like you to take up a just cause,” he mused. “Much less one that undermines your father.”

“She was my father’s mercenary,” snapped In-Soo, pulse quickening, fists at the ready. Damn Yong-Ha and his games. “We are already driven to the point of ruin, and she can take the last of what remains - our money, our house. All she needs is to speak to the King and there would be more prosecutions to endure, more reparations to pay. We would be on the streets!” His voice had raised to a shout, and Yong-Ha patted his hands at him to quiet down, looking over his shoulder at the stairwell to the shop.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “I’m sure that’s correct. But it’s not the only reason, is it?”

“I didn’t come here to play games!” In-Soo jumped to his feet. “If you won’t help me, just say so and I’ll leave!”

Yong-Ha got up quickly and laid his hands on In-Soo’s chest, trying to pacify him.

“Don’t get so angry, In-Soo, it’s bad for your complexion. Here, sit down again. I’ll help you. For Cho-Sun’s sake, anyway. And maybe for old time’s sake, too. Finish your wine.”

“I don’t want wine,” said In-Soo. “I want you to take me to your friend.”

“Which friend?” Yong-Ha grinned impishly. “I have lots of them.”

*

Yong-Ha led the way up stone steps to the room at the top of the tower. He had clearly been here before. The soldiers in the guard room had recognised and greeted him. A few of them had recognised In-Soo as well, and muttered amongst themselves. He lowered his head as he walked past them, jaw clenched, eyes flashing.

“What it is to be derided by those who once feared you,” observed Yong-Ha breezily as they climbed the stairs. “Still, you must be getting used to it by now.”

They reached the door and Yong-Ha opened it without knocking, announcing himself with a chirpy, “It’s me!” and then stopping abruptly. In-Soo nearly walked into him.

Mun Jae-Shin was standing on one side of the room. On the other, dressed all in black, was Cho-Sun. She had lowered her mask to show her face, and though one hand was on her sword, it was still sheathed.

“What are you doing here?” barked In-Soo, furious. “I told you to wait at the house! What do you think you can do here?”

“I don’t think she’s the kind of person who takes orders,” said Mun Jae-Shin evenly. “Not any more, anyway.” His own hand was on the sword in his belt, but he moved it away. “Close the door, Yong-Ha, it’s cold.”

A fire was burning in the grate, and there was a low bench along one wall. Jae-Shin sat down on it, letting his legs splay out. He looked peculiar in his uniform of the King’s Guard. Not the scruffy lout of Sungkyunkwan any more, despite his insolent posture, but not quite suited to a soldier’s uniform either. In-Soo stared at him. They were the same age, but Jae-Shin looked years younger.

“So, you two have started without us,” Yong-Ha said, twirling himself over to sit close beside Jae-Shin, who gave him an annoyed shove but otherwise let him be. “Ha In-Soo here has been telling me about your righteous quest for vengeance, Cho-Sun.”

She relaxed enough to take her hand from the sword hilt. “It is not a quest for vengeance. It is the fulfilment of a promise. I want to find out what happened to my family.”

“Do you know?” asked Jae-Shin lazily, looking at In-Soo, who looked away, glaring into the fire.

“No,” he muttered. “My father did many things he didn’t tell me about.”

“Mun Jae-Shin, you are a captain in the King’s Guard,” said Cho-Sun. “You can find the men who used to serve as the Minister of War’s private soldiers. You can find out which of them drove my family away.”

“You said that before,” said Jae-Shin, tiredly. “What makes you think I can do it? It was twenty years ago.”

“You found the geumdeunjisa,” countered Cho-Sun. “You found out who killed your brother.”

“That’s true,” said Jae-Shin, getting to his feet. He rolled his head and stretched. “But why would I help you?” He stepped up to face Cho-Sun, inches from her. “You framed me when you acted as the Red Writer. You would have killed me, if Minister Ha had ordered you to.”

“He did order me to.” She held his gaze. In-Soo, fists clenched, moved to step between them. Yong-Ha, seeing him, raised a hand to warn him off. “He ordered me to kill you if I had the chance,” Cho-Sun continued. “And I had plenty of chances. But I did not kill you.”

“You killed others.”

“No. He sent his soldiers with me and they…” She steadied herself. “They killed two men, and reported that it was the Red Writer.”

“You caused a lot of trouble.”

“I acted as I did because I was forced to.” Cho-Sun’s voice didn’t waver. “Minister Ha said he knew where my family had gone. He promised to tell me once I repaid my debt to him - the debt of raising me, clothing me, even training me as one of his soldiers. He turned me into a puppet, then forced me to dance. He sent me to the gisaeng house and visited me there, he even set his son as a second guard to keep watch over me. It is only since he died that I have been free.”

Cho-Sun went to the fire, turning her back on the room. “I have spent the last five years in disguise, trying to find them myself, but I am not as adept as some at passing as a man. As soon as I speak, or show my face, I am discovered. I cannot question soldiers, I cannot bribe guards.” Cho-Sun held her hands towards the flames. “I need your help.”

“And what about you?” Jae-Shin turned on In-Soo.

In-Soo opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Strange, how a ready answer had always been there, before. Jae-Shin was quick with his fists, and, with Kang-Moo there to do his fighting for him, In-Soo had only needed to reply with threats, schemes, insults, whatever he pleased.

“Why did you wish me luck?” was what he said. Behind Jae-Shin’s shoulder, he could see Yong-Ha’s frown. Jae-Shin’s eyes flickered, until he remembered. “We have always been enemies,” In-Soo went on. “It was natural. Soron and Noron. The student president and the thug. And when you found out that my father… that my father was responsible for your brother’s death… I thought the next time you saw me, you would kill me.”

“Instead, we fought together,” cut in Jae-Shin.

“For different things, though,” added In-Soo. “I was protecting Cho-Sun. Byung-Choon was protecting me. You were just fighting my father, the way you always had.”

“I was defending my friends, the same as you,” said Jae-Shin. “And one of them was… I forgave Seon-Jun. His father conspired with yours, he covered up my brother’s murder, and that of Kim Yoon-Hee’s father. He was corrupt and self-serving, he stood for everything that’s wrong with this nation. And now Kim Yoon-Hee sits down with him to eat when they visit; she calls him father-in-law.” He held In-Soo’s gaze, then gave half a chuckle, shaking his head. “I see you didn’t listen to the King’s speech at our final exam. Don’t you ever learn, Ha In-Soo?”

*

The rain stopped around midnight.

Ha In-Soo stepped out into the courtyard and breathed the cold night air. The household was in bed. Even beyond the gates, the city sounded hushed, readying itself for sleep.

“Are you all right, sir?” Byung-Choon appeared at his side. Like a dog he hadn’t whistled for, thought In-Soo.

“I will leave in the morning,” said In-Soo. “I have matters to attend to at home.”

“You could send for your sister,” suggested Byung-Choon hesitantly. “She might enjoy a change of scenery, some new company?”

In-Soo patted him on the shoulder, trying to ignore the way Byung-Choon flinched at his touch. “You are very generous,” In-Soo said, “but it will do Hyo-Eun no good to return to the city just yet. She is still young and impetuous and has not come to terms with our changed status.”

They stood in silence for a while, until Byung-Choon got up the courage to say, “I will continue to search the records for traces of Miss Cho-Sun’s family. I do not know if I’ll find anything, after all these years and with the files in disarray…” he trailed off. “But I will keep looking.”

“Thank you, Byung-Choon. Do you remember Mun Jae-Shin?”

“Do I remember him? Of course, sir!” His voice was filled with annoyance for the indignities they had both suffered at the hands of Jae-Shin and his friends.

“He is a captain in the King’s Guard now. He is also looking for Cho-Sun’s family. I believe, between the two of you, you will find them. And of course there is Gu Yong-Ha - ”

“That traitor? That liar? That interloper?”

“Yes, him. He has always been the best-informed man I know. He has people throughout the city and beyond. In every gisaeng house, every tavern, every marketplace. If Cho-Sun’s family are in this district today, he will find them.”

Byung-Choon gaped. “I - I cannot believe, sir, that you are working with these people.”

“I’m not working with them,” said In-Soo, smiling down at him. “You are.” He enjoyed Byung-Choon’s disbelief. “They won’t do any harm to your reputation, you know,” he added. “I will not be here. You will be helping Cho-Sun, not me. You needn’t be my man any more.”

“But I am!” Byung-Choon cried. “I am, and I always will be.”

In-Soo smiled again, and rested a hand on Byung-Choon’s shoulder, feeling him at first tense up, then relax. “You are a good and loyal friend,” said In-Soo quietly. “You have repaid me tenfold for the money I gave you years ago. And you have forgiven me for being a cruel master. You are a much better man than I am.”

*

The city was awake before the sun, and In-Soo was ready to leave after breakfast. He had nothing to pack, and the horse was saddled and waiting. He said his goodbyes to the ladies of the household, and endured his host’s effusive farewells. It was only as he led the horse through the gate and into the street that he heard footsteps behind him and Cho-Sun, absent all morning, was there at his side.

She wore plain, soft-coloured clothes, tidy enough but not nearly equal to her beauty, and her hair was again in a simple braid. She was carrying a bundle of cloth which she held out to him. “Please return these to your sister,” she said. “I have bought some new things for myself.”

“You deserve the best clothes in the city,” he said, and she lowered her eyes, accepting his clumsy compliment.

“Perhaps, one day, I will be able to afford to buy my dresses from Gu Yong-Ha,” she said, smiling. When he gave no reply, she made a small curtsy and murmured, “I hope you travel safely,” and turned to go back inside.

“Wait.” His voice sounded harsh and In-Soo swallowed. “You were right.” She tilted her head questioningly. “My changed circumstances have not improved my character. Perhaps nothing will. But I wish… One day, I hope to truly repay my father’s debt. And my debt. To you.” He bowed deeply, and it was only when he straightened that he remembered he was in a public street. He forced himself not to look and see if the passers-by were watching them.

Cho-Sun bowed in return, a perfectly measured indication of respect, the same she would give to any man, nothing more - but then again, nothing less. Then she turned her back on him and went inside.

*

The snow had gone from under the trees, and for the first time in months, the sky was free of clouds. Ha In-Soo reached the top of the hill and stopped to catch his breath. The shrine looked out towards the city, but the sun rose above the hills behind his house, so he turned that way, and warmed himself in its weak light. Spring was coming. He could feel it.


End file.
